Pierrot is grimacing. Pierrot, the sad clown. He gets betrayed on the stage every night. He gets slapped in the face every night. He tries to smile even then. But his smile is only a grimace on his dead, white face. He dies a little bit every night.
Pierrot the clown is exhausted like an old war-horse. Every evening he goes back to the theater in the park. He puts his white make up onto his face. He puts the white coat on with the big white buttons. He is white from his soul to the heart. He knows Harlequin will punch him again. He knows Columbine will betray him again. He knows he will die a little bit again.
Pierrot knows very well that the audience will laugh at him. They will ridicule him and he will grin like the old madman he is. But his white face and white soul will protect him from the mockers. His sad eyes will look at them and say, “Laugh at me, but please, love me,” and they do. They will love him for being a loser that can laugh it off, who is unluckier than them. Pierrot knows that. He smiles but it just becomes a grimace. He dies a little bit that night.
Pierrot is tired. He stumbles behind the stage and puts his dead white face on. The thrumming music scrambles into his ears. Pierrot slowly walks up to the stage. People bombard him with pebbles and shout, “Pantaloon!” He stands there in silence. His eyes are sad prayers. They cry red tears. The play begins. Columbine betrays him and Harlequin punches him in the face. The audience is laughing.
But their laugh does not reach him. He is somewhere else. The turbid cacophony is far away from him. Everything is silent for a moment and then he sees the moon above him. It is shining on him with compassion and lures him. He smiles back.
Pierrot hears the laughter again. He smiles with all his heart. “I am your old madman, people, you can laugh at me, you can mock me, but please love me,” his eyes say. But the audience loves him only if he cries. So he does so. He lets Harlequin punch him again and Pierrot gets the claps. Sweats run down on his face along with the red tears. He winks. He cannot see anything; he hears only the claps. It must be so. Pierrot dies that night.
